Gay

The TV was on, the lights were off, a blanket covering the three of us. No one said a word. It was my friend who moved his hand first, slowly, as if he’d been waiting for that moment for a long time.

He had a notebook of verses tucked under his arm and smiled as if he knew what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have gone back. But I did.

He arrived soaked, the marks from the last session still throbbing beneath his clothes. No one in the city knew that the most feared man came to kneel before me.

I never thought getting waxed would change anything. But when he ran the wax over my buttocks and told me to get on all fours, something in me lit up.

His fingers moved slowly up my thighs. Then I knew that massage was going to be something completely different from what I’d asked for.

We had been walking for minutes when I began recognizing the streets. When he opened that door, I knew I’d been there before—though never imagined under what circumstances.

Going out in a thong and bra under my leggings was my secret ritual. I didn’t expect anyone to dare follow me. Or that I’d want them to so badly.

I met him in a park I didn’t know, in a city that wasn’t mine. He invited me to his apartment and we lost track of time.

I lived on the farm and could wear women’s clothes all day without anyone bothering me. Until a stranger wrote saying he liked my photos.

I announced myself, as we always did. He told me to come in. I found him in the bathroom, shaving, naked. He had the body I’d tried not to look at for months.

I got off the bike half a block away and slipped in through the back door. From the bedroom came voices I took a moment to recognize.

I went to fix his washing machine with a red thong under my pants. I only had to find the moment for him to notice. He said nothing, but he kept watching.

I arrived at their apartment at the agreed time. He opened the door in a bathrobe; she came down later, nervous and excited. It would be a long night.

The first time I saw him at that dinner, I knew that man was unlike the others. Months later, I was the one asking him for more.

I was at the end of my rope. Out of money and out of options, I dialed Rodrigo’s number knowing exactly what it meant to see him again.

That morning the shower lasted nearly an hour. It began with soap and ended with something I had never quite dared to discover before.

I’d spent years hiding that side of myself, but with her it was different. When she told me she wanted to watch, I knew there was no way I could say no.

I was forty-six, married, with lovers and a perfectly ordered life. Then I saw him come out of the bathroom, and I couldn’t look away. That was the beginning.

I was forty-eight, had a wife, three children, and no doubt about who I was. Then a young man asked me for a ride to the metro.

He had introduced himself as the active one in the chat. But when I put my hands on his shoulders and felt him relax, I knew the rules were going to change that afternoon.